D Gray-Celeb
by Lenore91
Summary: What if various celebrates or public figures, such as Lady Gaga, Adele or James Blunt, found themselves in the world of D.Gray-Man? Based on reviewer suggestions!
1. Lady Gaga

**Authors note**: Let me who you think should enter this world and I'll write whatever comes to mind.

**Disclaimer**: I own none of the people/characters or anything accredited to them/their actual creator. Just... The priceless plots, I suppose.

THIS IS JUST FOR FUN. PLEASE DON'T GET OFFENDED/TAKE THIS AS A SERIOUS REPRESENTATION OF THEM.

**Warning - likely to be horribly inaccurate caricatures... (Swearing also possible in later chapters)**

###

That said, **enter - Lady Gaga!**

The year _was_ 2009. At least, she thought so. But then, when she woke up (_huh? when did I fall asleep?_) in her Kermit costume in a really really believable Victorian England movie set, she wasn't so sure. Then again, this was probably a dream. Or a movie set.

Stefani Germanotta, better known as Lady Gaga, pushed herself upright and strutted along the pavement, remarking to herself how realistic the props were. Alongside her, in the filthy, (very real) horse-dung coated road, carriages sped past, and pedestrians largely ignored the world-famous singer. Well, as much as any citizen of the late nineteenth century could ignore a Kermit-clad woman.

Casting her mind back, she had simply been considering the pending, German tv interview when she chose to rest her eyes; a common calming method, to centre oneself. It was only a couple of seconds, she felt, as, though it was a particularly late hour before she fell asleep the prior night, she knew better than to nod off whilst standing. Like cheese, chihuahuas and Italian garments, it gave her uneasy dreams. Not that she supposed she could fall asleep in such heels... And given that she was midstride, too, when this seemed to happen was curious.

"Maybe I'll write a song about it..." she pondered, beginning to hum.

She lengthened her stride to bounce with her newfound tune, as a beat to represent the drums of her potential piece. In response, hordes of strangely happy, emerald frogs, attached at hips, shoulders and necks, bobbled as she walked, nodding at passers by.

Two such travellers halted - though this alone was not uncommon in her presence. To these coated, stoic looking men, Lady Gaga was a threat. Though she was but a superstar-to-be, the exorcists saw her as an unnatural entity.

"Oh, my! What poor, unfortunate frogs!" Krory exclaimed, referring mostly to the decapitated Kermit atop her head, slanted to observe the ground ahead. "I wonder, is this a traditional garb, or such, Kanda?" The Japanese man didn't respond, giving the girl a brisk look.

She, in the era without clinical hair care, had particularly blonde hair with pink highlights. The style was a sharply cut bob: a futuristic look. Or was it just a poor disguise? Could this be a level two that's malfunctioned? Or is it her demonic form, to ensnare the onlooker?

"Akuma?" Kanda muttered, taxing his sleep-deprived brain to consider the possibility.

From the centre of the green orb burst her head and, on the other end, legs. Even without the demented amphibians, she was creepy enough to be one of the Earl's. Gleamingly clean hands protruded from her bizarre attire, no doubt to entice her prey. Her lips shimmered an unnaturally light pink - as so often the more bizarre akuma do to better confuse their victim.

Though he felt no killing intent, Kanda drew his sword. Since he didn't want to stalk some especially niche prostitute or risk letting an akuma wander free, he figured that he should confront the creature now.

But, in that moment, she turned to swag beyond their sight, around a corner. In that brief moment, they saw her side profile and Krory wept, calling out incoherent praises.

"El-El-Eli-ah?! Bu-wha? HOW?"

Kanda paid his elder no mind, making haste in pursuing the being. But, Krory too made chase - after the samurai - and swept Kanda bridal style into his arms.

"No, Kanda! You can't kill her: It's Eliade! It must be!"

"Fool," Kanda sneered, "it's a fucking akuma, to be destroyed." And with that, he kicked out of Krory's grasp and returned to his sprint.

This left Krory stunned, still half-minded from exhaustion, as he pondered the actual possibilities. But then, whatever the chances, if this was her and Kanda killed her...

He snarled. Eliade is his.

Rounding the corner, he sighted Kanda, having already trapped the... Female. In progress was apparently a staring contest, as each assessed the nature of the other.

She, under the gaze of an exorcist, showed no malicious intent. An activated Mugen graced her flesh, but stirred no hostility. To control her facial expression to such an extent - to suppress even the most minute, revealing body language of hatred - was impressive. And in Kanda's tired brain, could mean one thing: Noah.

Krory, however, had clambered into Kanda's back, drawing him downwards and away from his 'love'. Sprawled on the dirtied ground, Gaga pondered at them and made a resounding conclusion.

"Oh, my gender confused friends, embrace your suppressed, true nature! I'll pave the way for the end of such insecurities as sexual orientation, and the stigma it currently brings!"

She smiled widely at them.

Kanda began to mutter furiously, about new tactics of akuma and whatnot, as he flinchingly raised his sword, quivering in bloodlust.

Unfortunately for Stefani, Krory had knocked himself out.

###

Costume based on an actual one she wore in a 2009 German tv interview. Go google "Lady Gaga Kermit" - it became a small meme for a while. (It is not, as one friend thought, merely a kermit onesy. Though awesome, **this** is Gaga worthy...)

Let me know what you think and any other public figures who should get chucked in! (I have a few planned so far, so don't worry if yours isn't the next upload! I will also message you if I'm planning on using an idea you suggested.)

If this proves popular, I'll update weekly.


	2. Nicki Minaj

Big thanks to LilyHound for the review and suggestion! Dedicated to you,

**Enter - Nicki Minaj**

She stood, curves bare for the world to see. Photographers flashed their cameras, eager to spread her image. Her strappy white, partly opaque, high collared dress, with its sweetheart neckline, enamoured her enhanced bust. She smirked as far as her botoxed lips would allow, basking in the shimmering glow of the paparazzi.

Nicki Minaj, known by her parents as Onika Tanya Maraj, loved life. And life, she believed, loved her.

That is, until she blinked and opened her eyes to the glaring sun, far unlike the warm rays of fame. Not that she disliked the sunshine, but it was too bright for her slightly-tipsy eyes to adjust for. Raising a single, neon-painted, manicured hand, she shielded herself and considered the visible, shadier realms.

On the winding, vague dirt path ahead of her, in the centre of this small width of barren earth directly in front of her, grew a single stem of green. A shrugging pansy sighed in the loose breeze, disheartened by its isolation and the inevitable death it faced through draught.

For an instant, she wondered at what she saw, thinking about the beauty of its petty face and considered the value of such majestic foliage, she humoured the thought of inherent, intrinsic worth and thought to her self that, by far, she was superior aesthetically.

And in accordance with that very concept, she trampled over its wilting form, petals sundered, and trod forth.

She didn't know where she was, or how she got there, but remained optimistic. She'll find her way back soon enough.

Facing the sun, she dropped her saluting hand and winced into the light, lip taut with discomfort.

In the distance, a brown coated man dropped what he held and called out in shock.

"A-a-a Noah?!" For he had heard of them, what with their dark skin, flamboyant - often white or suit like - garb, and intimidating gaze.

Quivering, he retreated into the building opposite, grasping from the air a winged, black orb.

As he vanished from view, she considered his rear. The tone and texture of the wobbly muscle couldn't be accurately, easily deduced through the heavy beige cloth. Doubtless, it was a rather flat and unattractive arse. She looked on, to the space now unoccupied, in repulsion. Nothing she'd squish, if given the chance.

Sliding her hands down her back, she grasped her own bum and squeezed lightly, confirming the presence of multiple, silicon packs. She sighed in relief. Though sitting on a chair was now more reminiscent of a yoga ball session than relaxing into a soft, flat sofa, it was worth it. For she was Onika-Buttocks-Complex no more!

With a grimace at her internal reminder of her single 'flaw' - or as she would rather call it, higher standards - she continued her silent reflections. She had certainly... Grown out of such a vain phase, for she was the bigger, more voluptuous person! Hmph!

And with that, she chose to not let her emotions be dictated by others, ignored the man's rump, and began to sing a song.

_"This one is for the boys with the booming system  
Top down, AC with the cooling system"_

With just a tune in her head and the lyrics on her tongue, she began to dance, swaying strangely and slinging her arms hypnotically above her head. The man from before, joined with two others of varying firmness, arrived to gawk, before flailing into the oblivion between alleyways. She paid it no minority of mind, pouting between breaths, like a grotesque Jigglypuff, as she paraded her masterpiece to an invisible, adoring audience.

_"And he ill, he real, he might got a deal  
He pop bottles and he got the right kind of bill  
He cold, he dope, he might sell coke  
He always in the air, but he never fly coach"_

In the town, news spread quickly and the shutters upon windows were drawn close and bolted tight. The weary inhabitants kept perfectly quiet, warned by the Churchmen in brown to do as told for their lives.

The Finders, instead, had set up angled mirrors, to watch her from a safe corner, to distinguish her ability as a Noah by observing her performance. After all, if they were to die - as they surely would - the least they could do to serve their god would be to discover that little, for the benefit of sir exorcists.

_"That's the kind of dude I was lookin' for  
And yes you'll get slapped if you're lookin' hoe"_

At the horrific thoughts, screaming about Noah, far louder than the murmured monologues of suppressed breathing and stillness, the nearby Noah, Wisely, decided to investigate. Which of his siblings, then, were ravishing the town? Or had a new one awakened? Or was there some merger imitation of a Noah, by some foolish clown, terrifying the citizens? Maybe some Christian fanatic had declared himself holy, or was a known criminal parading the streets?

Smirking, the whitette pursued the trail of consciousness, eager, stumbling upon the scene...

_"I said, excuse me, you're a hell of a guy  
I mean my, my, my, my you're like pelican fly  
I mean, you're so shy and I'm loving your tie"_

...and promptly fainted, unable to deal with the illogical thought track.

At least five additional personalities lied within the obtuse girl: Onika Maraj, Cookie, Harajuku Barbie, Nicki Minaj, Point Dexter, Roman and Martha Zolanski. Who even needs that many alter egos? Even Eminem only had the one Slim Shady!

Recoiling from unconsciousness momentarily, and for dramatic effect, he gasped, clutching his forehead and wincing.

"I can't take it!"

And so he shrunk into his panicked-turtle-position, unable to adapt or recover from the torment that is she.

_"You're like slicker than the guy with the thing on his eye,* oh  
Yes I did, yes I did, somebody please tell him who the F I is  
I am Nick-"_

And at this beautiful moment, as she proudly told the underprepared, frightened, nineteenth century world her name, she tripped. Her arms crumpled beneath her, her knees crossed and her bulging breast acted as an anchor to the solid earth, and an air bag for her face. Unfortunately, with her immovable arms and inflexible behind, she was stuck - face down in the counterfeit bosom.

Wiggling fiercely, flexing her rump in agitation, but unable to find purchase, she struggled against gravity. Growling deeply into the unnaturally cool, skin-stretched bulbs of boob, she vowed against this, despite whatever forces may be, refusing to die by suffocating into her implants.

Behind her, the trio of Finders approached cautiously, entirely bypassing the white haired noah, armed with alarmingly odorous sticks.

By chance, was god honouring her that last request?

###

***SIMPLE OMAKE 1**

Somewhere else, Allen Walker looked up from his mitarashi dango, feeling strangely insulted... Yet relieved.

Beside him, Lavi shuddered and muttered about how some 'strikes' were, in fact, strike outs.

In the unknown, dark dens of Asia, Marian Cross smirked, and regarded aloud to himself that he enjoyed a challenge.

...and the Earl promptly removed his monocle, so as to no longer be one with a thing at his eye.

**SIMPLE OMAKE 2**

And so she began to sing a song about an amazing, wonderful fish: the super bass...

###

Hope I did you proud! And sorry if this is a little coarse - a week isn't as long as I thought for both writing and editing purposes!

17/07/13


	3. Adele Adkins

Hey there, I'm back again. Hope you liked the last one, and enjoy this!

###

**Enter - Adele**

Into the microphone she sang, barely aware of the world and focused on her music. Here, she breathed, came the final chorus of what was proving to be a difficult song to record. The music, she knew, crescendoed at this point, reintroducing the initial rift and the volume just had to increase. With her debut album, 19, Adele was going to make it big!

_"Should I give up  
Or should I just keep chasin' pavements  
Even if it leads nowhere  
Or would it be a waste  
Even if I knew my place, should I leav-"_

A gust of wind swept through her fleshy frame, chilling her. She let out an aggravated howl and cursed. That time was perfect, too!

"- it's bloody freezin' in 'ere!" The singer called out, twisting to grimace at what was the studios sound box, "can't cha turn the heat'ng up, or summing? Close a door, maybe?"

She opened her eyes, fully intent to stare down whoever had interrupted her recording, to see a cow's dull gaze, hovering back at her. The singer let out a startled sound and reeled away, though maintaining eye contact with the spotty bovine. Said cow continued to munch its fodder, unfazed.

As she stared, watching it's rotating jaw grinding grass in a lousy decorum, befitting the grace of a hamburger, it occurred to her that most events can be found to happen for some reason - be it for good or ill - and that it's a miracle that any two humans can coexist, let alone the wonder that is earth. And as she thought this, rather indifferent to the epiphany it was (which is all the better for taking it to heart), her eyes locked on the vast, dark void of the beast's left nostril, the pathetic creature yawned wide its mouth and -

"MWOOOH."

-mooed.

Even the placid, pretty blandness of the pale green hilltops couldn't soothe the enraged girl. And so it was that she: kicked her heel into the mud; snapped off the other one while trying to draw back her shoe from the bowels of the countryside. Half her hair fell down, and she bit through her lip; along with the common, unfavourable, dirtied, broken fingernails; ripped and tilted hemlines, and; a raggedy, soiled appearance.

Her wild countenance of disarray was what greeted the sudden distraction to her misery, though by no means was it a solution.

"Um, hello there." A white haired... boy entered her sight, too close for comfort. Adele swung a pace back, eyeing him carefully, and hoping in the back of her mind that he had terrible eyesight.

"Who're you?" she grunted, though not unkindly.

"My name is Howard Link and this," a new, previously-unspotted man gestured, "is Allen Walker."

"Pleasure to meet you, miss-?" The-now-dubed-Allen asked kindly, semi bowing and holding out a hand in greeting. She watched the gloved appendage for a moment, before gingerly grasping it in her hands.

"Adele Adkins," releasing the hand, she grimaced - just knowing that the grisly mud had stained his pristinely white fabric - "Where's this?"

They gave her a look.

She panicked.

"I mean, I know is'a field, bu' where is it? Like, on a map." she rambled coarsely.

_Shut up, brain, shut uuh~up! She reprimanded herself. No one wants to hear you_.

"Or, ah, point me to ya nearest cit-ee, or t'own, or summing."

_Stop sending impulses to my mouth, damn it! Be quiet! Shhhh-!_

"Uh, yeh gotta fone I can bora? Or a-?"

...and her mouth shut as her body finally got the message. A little late for her dignity, but, hey, how much did she have left to lose?

There was an awkward pause as Adele considered, expression strained with worry, how to redeem herself in the eyes of the strangers.

"...Link," Allen muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Yes, Walker?" he responded in kind.

"You don't suppose that her voice... Like Master's Grave of Maria?"

"I suppose there is quite a difference between her singing and her speaking..."

"I haven't seen any Akuma for a while?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean so, Walker, strange though it is."

"It could, possibly." There was a pause. "And it could explain the missing Cockatiel."

"...how would it explain that?"

"It might!"

"...point taken. But how can we be certain? Bear in mind that we have a scheduled gate to attend, too."

"Uh, hello?" Adele asked, curious about their conversation. After all, if they were directions, she wanted to hear them.

They ignored her.

"Hevlaska would know."

"In that case..." he nodded towards Adele. The blond boy seemed to agree with his conclusion.

And so, together, and without comment, they each hooked an arm under the singer's and trotted her off to Headquarters, without substantial pause for rest or explanations.

It was not a quiet, easy journey.

"Where the fuck ya tak'ng me!? Hey! Answah me!"

They didn't sufficiently; muttering under their breaths about the whole story being lengthy and it being proper for Komui's induction, or something.

In response, the uninformed, talented vocalist closed her eyes and scrunched her face up in preparation for an angry, explosive sigh, and so did not notice the white floating fragments and following city through which she unknowingly traveled.

"Just give up and put me down, you little prick!"

She did, however, make sure to curse them out of their skins, wearing them down psychologically.

"I'm too heavy for ya scrawny arms!"

She went so far as to smear them, without even a smidgen of caution, with field-residue and stared down the queerly dressed men, armed with ordained, spiked axes, and guarding grey stone walls.

"Oi, shitheads!" she started again, "drop me or I'll spit on you!"

The strained expressions and mud-matted hair of the teens were hilarious. She couldn't help it: she chortled, snorting, at them, then froze as something big and translucent blue entered her peripheral vision.

And raised her into the air.

"...I feel...something unfamiliar...in this...one." the creature muttered like a prophet.

"Let me fecking go, you freaky octo-lady!" She kicked out, snarling.

"...I shall now..."

Adele grinned - finally someone was listening to her!

"check if she's...compatible..."

Her face fell into one of disappointment, then anger!

"with any of...the cubes...within me..."

The thing murmured on, droning on about this and that. Adele focused more on removing the blue tendrils from her being, calling out when they began to shine.

"STOP WITH THE TENTACLES ALREADY!"

She had had enough. With one swift swing of her body, like one would a hula hoop, she manoeuvred around, within the glowing... Blob... And punched it in the glabella.

The creature fell back with a stunning squeal.

As she fell into the bottomless, dark tank below - watching with unhidden mirth as the two teenagers above floundered to catch her - she distinctly recalled thinking...

Heh. Teaches them to mess with Adele Adkins.

###

Since this one is in the summary, I reckoned I should actually upload it. More in progress and coming soon! And I'm still open to suggestions, y'know? :)

24/7/13


	4. Kobayashi Sanae

Sorry about the delay! But I'm back now!

Dedicated to **Ayuhime -or Ame-chan** who gave me the idea in a review. THERE WAS TOO MUCH THAT COULD BE DONE! So I tried to do it all...

(Brief note- I misread your extended suggestion slightly, as I'm sure you'll figure out...)

###

**Enter**, the voice actress of Allen Walker and many others, **Sanae Kobayashi**.

Kobayashi Sanae enjoyed her life, and her career. She had recorded alongside many warm and witty people, and had starred in numerous main roles. Of course, she had her favourites, and her not-so-favourites, but she'd never tell.

Voice-acting was a wonderful job, she felt. Not only did she bring to life heroes of countless otakus, inspiring them in their droves, but she could be paid to engage with and enjoy characters from manga (for research purposes, of course). What better job can there be?

Beyond that, voicing characters and later seeing the completed piece allowed her to experience the adventure with all the safety of modern life. One month, she's a sadistic, fifteen year old 'diclonius' girl and the next, she's a blue turtle called Squirtle. There was no need to get slashed up or encounter evil, or suffer angst, to experience the fun. All she needed was a script and a crew!

It was as she pulled the plug from the bath and began to ruffle dry her short, red-black hair with a towel that she noticed a distinct change in temperature. Paying it little mind, she continued to hum tsunaida te ni kisu wo, a song featured in the anime -Man, in which she played the male protagonist.

Eyes closed in contentment, she wrapped the Hello Kitty towel around her frame and opened her eyes to what should have been the bathroom door. Instead, she gazed out at wide, open sand and three attached walls in the distance.

_Whaaat?_

Dripping, leaving a soggy trail of brown clumped sediment, she hesitantly darted between the fat pillars beside her, making her way across the insanely large room.

_Where am I?_

Then, just as she witnessed a scene that told her her exact location, her first response wasn't to ask for help or strike up conversation, but to play with him; she'll figure out the rest later.

Spotting Kanda Yuu in the far corner, meditating alone, she smirked. That character was easy to mess with. Plus, she knew from chatting with Hoshino-san that he was his most off guard when doing this in the training room. After all, the terrifying Kanda Yuu was dangerous - and this moment in his routine is perceived to be his most lethal, should anyone interrupt. What better chance in his day is there to have a daydream?

Throwing her skilled voice out was a simple enough task, as was using her 'Allen Walker' voice: what was difficult was getting it spot on without a warm up. Gritting her teeth in nervous excitement, she realised this could only go two ways: getting caught and killed or getting away with it.

It was, she quickly summarised to herself, a once in a lifetime opportunity in both scenarios.

"Oh, Kaaaandaaaaa~" she called, a slight and accidental warble in the sound. At the lack of response generated, she chose to repeat herself, but much louder this time.

Groggily, he opened a single eye and scanned the room. There wasn't anyone in sight and no suggestion of anyone otherwise. (And yes, he checked the floor twice incase the idiot beansprout had slipped and fell or something - why else would the moron resort to disturbing the great Kanda Yuu?) Immediately returning to his previous mien, he relaxed into thoughtlessness.

"Bakanda-sama?" Kobayashi enquired, trembling with giddy anticipation.

Dynamically surprised, Kanda jolted from his lotus position, throwing garbled arms into the sky, and fell onto his face. With a slow grunt, he snapped his gaze up from the ground and glared at the air.

_That's it,_ the exorcist thought, getting to his feet and drawing out his sword.

After a distinctly long moment - long enough for Kanda to consider sheathing Mugen - she finally cooed, using her black Allen voice.

"Itty-bitty-kitty-Kanda-Yuu!"

Kanda, with a silent squeal of deranged disbelief, began slicing the air, untied hair consuming his image from the world.

"MOYASHI!?" he roared, ignorant to Kobayashi's retreating, chortling figure.

###

Arriving at the canteen, Kobayashi struggled to remember Allen's phrasing, but chanced a quick -

"I'll have my usual, Jerry-San!"

- while squatting beneath the shelf of Jerry's window, out of sight.

"Alrighty Alle-? Huh, where are you? Did I imagine that?"

"Um, no. Er," she thought quick, "Komui-san split another experiment on me, and, er, made me invisible."

"Oh, that's unfortunate! Will it wear off soon? I don't think I could go forever without seeing your cute little face!"

Vaguely creeped out and unamused, she swallowed and hoped a noncommittal answer would suffice.

"Um, eventually?"

He hummed in thought and turned away to prepare the food, placing what was done either at the window or on the trolly inside the kitchen, to wheel out when full.

Kobayashi sighed.

Ordering phantom food at Jerry's wasn't as much fun as she hoped, so she abandoned all but two plates of mitashari dango and raced out of the large open arc, the space acting as a doorway, and sprinted down a random direction.

Poor Jerry only spotted the fading, bobbling expression of a white, pink bowed cat.

"Um, hello, kitty?" he called, waving curiously at the retreating face.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Jerry glanced at where Allen's head could have been and asked him -

"So, Allen-cutie, any gossip for me?"

###

As a hungry Allen waltzed into the canteen, several things happened.

The visiting Rohfa fainted from excessive nose bleeding.

Reever fell asleep despite drinking dangerous levels of coffee.

Jerry leapt from the kitchen and raced towards him, exclaiming mad things.

Timcanpy vanished into the rafters, and angled himself as if to enjoy a show.

A Finder sneezed.

An angry Kanda stalked through the isles, flaming with hatred, and drew his sword.

"Cutie! I can see you! That didn't last long, did it?"

"MOYASHI! GET YOURSELF OVER HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU!"

"And I've been meaning to ask you, were you ignoring me earlier? Because that really hurt my feelings! And people thought I was being silly, too!"

"WHO THE FUCK'S ITTY-BITTY, SHORTSTACK?"

"And you left your food behind. Some of it even got cold! You know how I feel about food waste!"

"Um, um! Wait, just, what's going on?" Allen tried, raising his hands forward in gesture of peace.

"DON'T YOU EVEN THINK OF RUNNING FROM ME!"

Kobayashi happened upon the scene and chose to intervene, whatever the cost to Allen.

"ALLEN," Rohfa screamed in her unconscious delirium, "I LOVE YOU!"

("And I you, my sweetheart." Kobayashi begun, loving how no one noticed that Allen's shocked gasp did not dub well with her improvisation.)

"Congrats on your love... Also, what breed of cat was that?" Jerry told Allen the question he'd been considering all day.

("The Japanese towel kind." she told him honestly, at the same time that Allen said- )

"Wha? What cat? And wait, who?"

"I love cats, y'know?" He gushed, hands clasped.

("I like them, too. In my food." she lied, enjoying the shock on his face,)

"ANY LAST WORDS, BAKA?" Kanda jeered, soaring towards his prey in one flying leap.

("Um," she began, then was struck by a bolt of inspiration "I HAVE A HAIR PULLING FETISH!")

Kanda flopped over, midair, and stared horrified at Allen.

"What? No! I-I didn't say that! It wasn't me!"

Helping herself to Reever's coffee, her never-dry hair spilling into her face and dripping into the coffee, she watched as Jerry sobbed tears of confusion, Rohfa squealed at her crush and Kanda tried to maim Allen.

She remarked to herself that she'd really fancy a bath, after all that walking.

###

**Alternative Entry -**

"I love you Rhode, with all my heart." Kobayashi drawled as the eldest Noah attempted to restrain a blush.

"Oh, Allen!" she sighed, gazing lovingly at her life sized plushie, resembling the boy at the heart of her affections. His star-scar was the wrong shade, and his smouldering gaze was unfocused, but that did not matter to the girl.

"I-I" Kobayashi stumbled, racking her mind for ideas, "would abandon this war ju-just to be by your side, my love!" she cringed, squatted under the table and chained via a single lock to its underside, hideously ashamed of her own brain.

"...so why haven't you, yet?" Rhode pouted, close to tears at the thought.

But the voice actress was distracted, silently rummaging through her things for a way out.

"Why else would I be sat here, my dear, unless it was to be with you?"

"That's not what I asked, Allen-kun!" Rhode whined dangerously.

Kobayashi panicked, a hair clip in the lock, nearly free.

"But... Isn't my answer clear to you? You're the one I love, Rhode. Forever and always. I cast away the Order the instant I realised the truth. I am yours, Rhode."

"Oh, Allen!" she cooed, launching herself over the table to kiss the Allen-doll.

It was as the chair fell over, Rhode straddling the mannequin, that the lock unclicked - unheard in the din - and Kobayashi Sanae crawled hastily to freedom.

_Never. Again_. She vowed.

###

7/8/13


	5. James Blunt

Sorry about the delay. Stuff happened. I'm back now. :)

(sorry about how short this is. I struggled to grasp him, even though I suggested the idea to myself... XD)

###

**Enter - James Blunt**

He woke to a cold, early summer morning. The typically spiteful British weather meant that the temperature - despite the grace of the sunlight at such an early hour - was near frosty, though a foggy sheen on the horizon promised a better afternoon ahead.

Luckily, he would soon realise, he had fallen asleep clutching his guitar and hence had it with him. Still blinking the night from his eyes, banishing his dreams from his mind, he twinged it experimentally, repeating the tune from the prior evening. Quite indifferent to his new location, he began muttering the half-formed, hazy lyrics, uncaringly attracting a crowd to the bench upon which he laid.

_"There are children standing here,  
Arms outstretched into the sky,  
Tears drying on their face.  
He has been here.  
Brothers lie in shallow graves.  
Fathers lost without a trace.  
A nation blind to their disgrace,  
Since he's been here."_

Drawn by both boredom and an aptly timed distraction, Timothy raced away from his assigned Finders and towards the music. Darting between civilians, under legs, outstretched arms and over half assembled market stalls, he quickly happened upon the brunet - twinkling away at his instrument.

_"And I see no bravery,  
No bravery in your eyes anymore.  
Only sadness."_

For a moment, the boy just stopped. Staring, he lost himself - into the music, the rhythm, he sunk; like a plunge into warm, embracing water, he found himself speechless.

_"Houses burnt beyond repair.  
The smell of death is in the air.  
A woman weeping in despair says,  
He has been here."_

His mind flitted back to the orphanage: it's burnt, ravaged, ruined form; the strangely prevalent, permanent smell of children reduced to dust, of several dead; and a crying, loved, but sobbing woman, unable to contain her sorrows. And he?

He could be the Earl, who tempted the Priestess away from god.

He, being the detective, who had promised a new family, but was denied by fate.

He could mean that Phantom Thief G, whom he had foolishly paraded around as, by which he brought despair upon his family.

One last image flickered passed, barely acknowledged and undesired. Timothy raised a hand to the small marble-like innocence that protruded from his forehead, wide eyed.

He: that idiot father of his. In his mind, a shady grin was strewn across those ugly features, forgotten eyes wide - pupilless, and white - and a metal tooth glinted, flashed amber.

He, Timothy, was deformed. Since he'd been here.

From behind him, Chaojii marched up, slowing as he, too, was influenced by the music.

_"Tracer lighting up the sky.  
It's another families' turn to die.  
A child afraid to even cry ou-"_

"What the hell?" Chaojii asks, shaking off bad memories. Namely Anita and Mahoja - their tear stained, smiling grimaces as darkness took them. And from before that, the fire that'd taken his biological family.

_"But no one asks the question why,"_

"Why?" Timothy breathed, to anything that'd answer him.

_"Old men kneel to accept their fate.  
Wives and daughters cut and raped."_

"The truth is rarely obvious, and rarely liked." Tsukikami murmured sadly, somewhat less entranced by the singer, though attentive nonetheless. "One has to work hard to discover what they don't want to know... So why ask?"

_"A generation drenched in hate."_

They breathed, strange, unexpected shame washing through them.

Why did they hate so much? Both other people and themselves? And of the Earl - why does he hate humans?

There was a pregnant pause as the silence rang, a last note cut off in preparation of the new.

Even now, Chaojii couldn't forgive so many people, festering grudges and harbouring hatred in his soul.

Even now, Timothy couldn't forgive that one woman who traded him and the orphanage in for small, petty riches.

But what did hating ever gain them? Is there any benefit for their anger, or is it all detrimental and distracting?

Did fury ever motivate them to achieve anything of worth?

There was a strong, sturdy and loud inhalation from the dark haired singer, as a new song began.

_"How I wish I could surrender my soul;  
Shed the clothes that become my skin;  
See the liar that burns within my needing.  
How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold.  
How I wish I had screamed out loud,  
Instead I've found no meaning."_

Expressions hard, they activated their innocence, and prepared to destroy the performer.

Screw regretting their prejudice, there were demons to slay!

###

7/8/13


	6. Justin Bieber

This one's for Jazebeth! (Just in case it isn't obvious, the man's Sheryl Kamelot.)

###

**Enter, Justin Bieber!**

With one last glance in the mirror, featuring a swish of his light brown hair and a wink, Justin exited the limo without so much as a glance back.

If he had, he'd realise it was no longer there.

Or, rather, _he_ was no longer there.

Instead, what was going to be a long, concrete stretch into the distant, posh restaurant (darn limos for their inflexible parking regulations!) he saw a long, concrete stretch into the nearby manor house. And that suited the ignorant teen much better than he had anticipated.

Not realising the lack of press or bodyguards (he had long ago learnt to ignore the unconditional love and fame that came with his category of talent), he swagged along the uncracked, grey path and knocked twice briskly.

Opening the tall, dark oak door, was a tall, pale man in a brown waistcoat, with fine, shimmering, black, swishy, hair. Long eyelashes fluttered in confusion, emphasising his long, rounded nose. The golden initials, S.K, were emblazoned on a handkerchief, ruffled loosely from a pocket.

"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly, and not without cause.

"I have a reservation." Justin responded, somewhat baffled by the unwelcoming aura.

"...which is?" the man chose to humour him, vaguely interested, though simultaneously considering to kill the visitor for interrupting his all-important father-daughter bonding time.

"Under Bieber. Justin Bieber."

"That's an uncommon regret." he miffed, disappointed.

"No, it's my name?"

"Well, you failed to kept that secret. Now, if you'd kindly vacate yourself from the premises..."

Outraged by this show of disrespect, Justin stomped his foot and declared -

"I'm a very well known singer. I refuse to be treated like this."

The man snorted, unimpressed.

"Don't waste my time. I _know_ for certain that my gorgeous, cute little girl is already a far better vocalist than you'd ever be."

"You have a daughter?" Justin enquired, pleasantly surprised. He loved his fan base, (they bought his merchandise, after all) and a cute little girl sounded like the right demographic. Gorgeous, to boot.

"The best!" he cried, puffing his chest out with pride.

"Well, I hope she's a Bieliber, then." Justin gave a cheeky wink, expecting the term to be known by the older man, even though he didn't appear up to date with the latest celebrities. Instead, he invoked a different response.

"A... a Bieliber, you say?" The man swayed on his feet, darkness oozing from him. "How _dare_ you?" he seethed.

"Um?" Justin asked dumbly.

"You _hope_ my precious little angle has a CHRONIC ILLNESS?" the man roared.

"Wha-what? No!" he denied, flabbergast.

"Or that she be TERMINALLY ILL?"

"Definitely n-!" he began, flailing frantically.

"-You _want_ my super beautiful ray of sunshine to be PLAGUED WITH TINY PARASITES THAT POISON HER BLOOD AND HINDER HER MOBILITY?"

"I never-!" he gasped.

"Well, lets just see who's plagued, shall we? HEY, FIDDLER, COME HERE FOR A BIT!"

"Fiddler?" Justin yelped, scared for his pelvis.

Out clambered a broad, stout, cross-eyed man. A choppy fringe highlighted wide eyes, and isosceles earrings drew his face short. His light brown hair was shaved short at the sides and left long along a centre strip, pulled back into a waist length ponytail.

The burly man strung apart his lips, parting them into what Justin hoped would become a smile. Maybe it would have been...had a leg-long tongue not fallen from his mouth. Justin felt his jaw going the same direction, but forced it firm, as if such excessive flesh was contagious by sight.

Then thirty eyelids blinked open.

Justin bit his tongue in shock, his own eyes bulging.

Fiddler groaned, as though it were an irritating, commonplace hindrance. Then his face seized up, twitching, as he drew in sudden breath.

And sneezed.

And fourteen eyeballs popped out.

Justin Bieber personified the term gobsmacked.

Meanwhile, the man in the doorway hand raised a hand to his head, both massaging his temples and blocking Fiddler from his sight, appearing exasperated. Grumbling under his breath something a lot like _'just deny knowing him. That'll work out fine.'_

Groaning, shuffling like a zombie, Fiddler stumbled to retrieve and slot back into place his lost, squishy organs. Fumbling, he tried pushing two into a single socket, making a dumb sound of confusion when they both sprung away from his touch onto the floor.

"Sther-ul! Eh than't ew et." (Sheryl! I can't do it!)

"We're not blood related." he was quick to point out, apparently frank and embarrassed by the display.

Justin, all too quickly forgetting himself, pointed out that they, 'obviously', must be related somehow.

"I mean, you both have freaking ponytails. Why is that? You're both men, so-"

Distraught, Sheryl called out in retort.

"WELL, YOU OBVIOUSLY PLUCK YOUR FOREHEAD LIKE A WOMAN!"*

"God damn, when will people stop doubting my testosterone levels?!" he despaired, shrugging under the burden of his feminine charm. "When will it end?" he cowed, suggesting wildly - "Do I have to get someone pregnant or something?"

The sky darkened once more as Sheryl glared, outraged, and unforgiving.

"YOU WILL NOT, IN ANYWAY, DEFILE MY WONDERFUL, PURE, BEAUTIFUL AND GLORIOUS ROAD! I SHALL NOT ALLOW IT! I SHALL NOT GIVE YOU THE CHANCE!"

All at once Justin lost control of his limbs. At first, he was manipulated from his previous, slouched position to a more rigid, military stance, then switched to a ballet pose - with heels touching, toes pointing outwards and prettily placed hands.

There was a pause.

Hyper aware of his unresponsive body, as though it had forgotten its true master, he whimpered, afraid.

Then he was made to wiggle and slide, jiggling in what he realised was a dance, as his puppeteer laughed manically, leading him inside.

"Welcome," Sheryl cackled, grinning evilly, "to your doom!"

There was a lightless abyss ahead, only the pale sheen of a madman's gleaming eyes visible.

"Parasites, first, then?" Sheryl considered, gleeful.

There was a sinister mirth in the responding grunt, as Justin Bieber watched his last ever rays of sunlight recede behind a tall, dark door.

###

(Yes, I know Fiddler should be Fiidora, but hey.)

* forehead plucking was once a thing. I think (don't know) that that fad coincides or was sometime just before the plot of DGM.

14/8/13


End file.
